Grassy Cement
by Catchy Pen Name
Summary: Men can be dumb. They see something they can't get before they count to three, and suddenly they want it, bad. James tried the GO OUT WITH ME tactic for awhile, before he moved on to something much smarter than I ever gave him credit for. LJ, year 7, RR
1. Prologue

Title comesfrom the quote, "'If grass can grow through cement, then love can find you at any time in your life." I thought that quote fitted this story pretty darn well.

**Disclaimer**: Okay, people, now really, if I owned HP, or if I owned anything besides what I buy at the dollar store, would I REALLY be sitting here at this cheap-o computer writing fanfiction? I mean _really_... (I own nothing and am making no profit from this.)

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Prologue 

When I was little I used to daydream. I would sit in fourth period math and stare out the window at the sixth graders running around and laughing on the playground, and I could let my mind wander. The glass blocked the noise, but if I concentrated hard enough I could hear it. If I blocked out Sister Walter's lecture on long multiplication long enough, I could feel the wind whipping my hair, the beads of sweat glistening on my forehead after a heavy game of capture-the-flag, and the way I would tie my jacket around my waist, ignoring the way the knot kept bumping into my bellybutton. That's what I would daydream about—me being somewhere else.

I squirmed in my seat. I hated that damn uniform so much. I went to a private Catholic school. We had it all—the uniforms, the strict rules, the nuns armed with rulers, ready to crack it on someone's knuckles like a whip if they weren't paying attention. The school board told them to stop doing that, but they wouldn't listen. They never listen. When someone says the word "nun" you automatically think of a sweet, old lady with big, wrinkly hands and a golden cross gleaming against her black gown. If that's what a nun is supposed to be like, then these are the exact opposite. I call my math teacher Sister Death.

"... if 192 is the product of 64 and 3, then what is the overall price for Robert to purchase twelve gallons of gasoline," Sister Death droned. By God, was she still on this one? I'm not really supposed to say God's name like that—I'd probably get cracked with Death's pet ruler—but I can't help it. We private school goers tend to be like that. We like to revolt. I think it's because everyone expects up to be perfect, and we crack under the pressure. I was only in fifth grade and already one of my friends was smoking. She could inhale and everything, then let the smoke out the side of her mouth, like Frenchy did in Grease. I told her I thought it was absurd. Not the smoking part—at least half of my school did that—but the age thing. I always thought like an adult. "We're too young for that!" and "What will you're mother say!" I lived on those statements. I also told her I thought she was too young to smoke. I immediately launched into a speech about lung cancer, and heart disease, and—

"OW!"

Caught in the act. Sister Death caught me and gave me a good dent in one of my fingers with that damn ruler. I glared at her under my bangs. I could see out and she couldn't see in. I watched her smirk, tap the ruler to the palm of her hand, curl her fingers around it, then walk back to the front of the class. She usually didn't catch me daydreaming, but I leaned to never once doubt near-sightedness. She whipped around to face the class and opened her mouth to reveal a set of pointy, yellow teeth, all lined up in a grimy yellow line. Did I mention she was a vampire?

"Lillian," she growled, as most underwater beasts do, "why don't you tell us the answer to number six."

I glanced down at my paper. She was still on six? I finished all twenty-five in under five minutes. It took my eyes a few seconds to locate that problem, and when I did I cleared my throat slightly. "Uh, forty-six?" I fake-guessed. Even when you know the answer, pretend that you're sort of unsure about it, so kids don't get jealous. They've introduced that wonderful fact to me countless of times, after school behind the dumpsters.

She dimpled a wonderfully fake smile. "Excellent, Lillian," she praised. And yet it still sounded like she really wouldn't mind dropping me off in the middle of the forest mapless, hanging upside down over a snake pit in Peru. Yep, that's Sister Death for ya.

Before she could go on to the next problem, God crackled over the intercom. "Sister Walter," she croaked, since in this school, God is an overweight woman with a tiny desk streaked with coffee stains, or the principal, as she is more commonly known, "would you please send Lillian Evans to the office for an early dismissal. Her mother is here to pick her up."

I closed my eyes. I could see Tasha and Amanda, the Queen Bees of the school, look at each other and unleash perfect snorts, then cover their mouths with perfect, dainty hands. That was the whole classes permission slip to lean over in their seats and snicker. With my eyes still closed, I gathered my books and darted out of that prison chamber. "Run home to Mommy," I heard someone hiss at me as I reached for the door. Now that I think about it, they couldn't have said a more immature and non-offensive thing, and yet my face burned up like a pit of hot coals. I stalked to the office and dragged my mother out of there, shooting her continuous glares, like it was her fault that I hated my school so much. No, that would be my dad's fault. Apparently, private schools give a better education than a public school would, according to him. I've only leaned two things at that school. One, eating the gum you find under your desk is NOT a good thing, and two, it's every man/woman/being for him/her/its self.

Once we reached the parking lot I let go of my mother's hand and allowed her to walk by herself, and not at eighty miles per hour, like she was a minute ago. I was about to tell her off about not waiting for me in the car, but once I took a look at her face I stopped in my tracks. That's the thing about my mom—she understands the power of silence. Her face held a deep frown and her bright blue eyes were incredibly dark. You could always tell her emotion by her eyes. They were normally a beautiful, deep blue that brightened when she was happy and darkened when she wasn't. Her long black hair hung limply at her shoulders—she forgot to brush it again today. My mother lives on impulses. She's a free spirit, exactly the opposite of me. She's a writer, and once she gets a creative burst, everything else she had planned for the day doesn't exist. She writes teen books, about popular girls who learn life lessons and abandon their cluster of bimbos for a life with a geek who always has a _great personality_. Even she doesn't understand how ironic her career is.

"Mum?" I asked. Of course, she didn't hear me. She's probably launching into her next twelve book series right now, about an abandoned child who's abused by her boyfriend. My mom clings to drama.

"MUM."

Her eyes unclouded and focused on me. Then her eyebrows rose in remembrance and she rushed me to the car, very similar to the way I rushed her out of my school. She shoved the keys into the ignition and floored it.

"Mum!" I yelled over the sound of wind rushing into the wide-open windows. "Mum, what's going on?"

"You will never believe it, Lily," she said to me in a low voice once she closed the car windows. "There is a bird in my kitchen."

"Mum, it's probably just a pigeon," I tried to explain. But she just shook her head stubbornly in disagreement, like she always did.

"I know a pigeon when I see one," she said. "And this is no pigeon."

"Maybe it's a _baby_ pigeon," I joked. My mom gently glared at me and took the right-hand turn onto out street.

"Believe me, once you see this, you'll be as confused about it as me."

I was shocked. My mom was really serious, and she's _never_ serious. About anything. You know that one friend's mom who's really really cool and hip and never yells? That's my mom.

She practically leapt out of the car once we pulled into our gravel driveway and opened my door as she passed it. I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder, closing the door with a slam as I followed my mother into our house. We crossed through our tidy living room and into our even tidier kitchen. I'm a neat freak. But my mom never minded, and I always loved her for that.

"Mum, what's going o—oh my word." Sitting—no _perched _on our kitchen chair, _my_ kitchen chair, was an owl. A large, brown owl with a _note_ tied to its foot. A freaking carrier owl was SITTING ON MY KITCHEN CHAIR!

"That's an owl," I dumbly announced. Man, was I the smartest kid you've ever seen or what.

"You can say that again," my mom mumbled.

I was about to, but I noticed my name scrawled on the envelope in perfect, pretty writing. My mom sighed; I felt her body rise and fall next to mine. "I tried to see what it said," she explained in a faraway voice. "Wouldn't let me."

I glanced at the envelope again, then in one quick moment, I snatched the envelope from the loosely tied string around the owl's ankle, if you can call it that. I hesitated, almost expecting it to flash a set of twenty-inch fangs at me and spout fire. When it didn't, I ripped the letter from its package and read it. I reached the bottom, then started again. I reread that damn letter at least ten times, and I couldn't focus on one word it said. My mother grew impatient and ripped it from my hands, skimming it for herself. Her mouth dropped and her blue eyes bulged, which was a much better response than anything I could have mustered.

She looked up at the owl again, but by that time it had already flown away. She looked at the letter instead. "Hogwarts?" she read aloud. Only when she said it it sounded like Hongclortz. She had the deepest English-Irish accent I've ever heard.

"What is it?" I asked as I sank down into the closest seat, making sure it wasn't the one the owl was only moments before seated on.

My mother read it again and muttered, "It's a school. For wizards?"

"And witches."

She snorted lightly and tossed the letter up in the air, then threw an arm over the back of the chair she was sitting in. I caught the letter right before it touched the table, and noticed there was a second paper. "School supplies," I murmured curiously under my breath. "Cauldrons, wands, robes..."

My mother snorted again. "This is insane," she stated as she furiously massaged her closed eyelids.

"But real," I added. "At least I think it is." I looked up at her with my eyebrow crawling down my nose. No one would go through all that trouble, sending a bird and writing a letter and whatnot, if it was just ajoke. "What do you think?"

She swung her head in my direction and blinked hard. "Um..." she faltered.

I set the letter down on the table. "So it's a boarding school, right? I mean, I'd stay there for the whole year, right?"

"_Magic_," my mother whispered under her breath as if it was the most magnificent word she had ever heard.

"Yes Mum, I'd be learning magic. But for a whole year? How many grades are there? I won't have to go to St. Mary's anymore, will I?"

She grinned. "That's a plus." She hated that school as much as I did. She just put up with it because my dad wouldn't send her an extra three hundred dollars with my child support, and she needed that for her book collection. She had about three hundred books already, and would just _die _if she didn't reach five hundred.

"So, mum?" I asked excitedly. Once the fact that I would go away to learn _magic_ sunk in, I was happier then a greedy little kid at Christmas.

Her eyes rolled in my direction, and after a moment's pause, she nodded.

"YES!" I screeched. I jumped up and pounced on my mother, giving her bear hug after bear hug, then a shower of Eskimo kisses.

My mom laughed and hugged be back, shoving her face in my hair like she always did. "We'll go to Whatever-It's-Called Ally tomorrow, just to see if it's really there."

"It'll be there," I said into my mom's neck. "I know it." And I can still feel that confident gut feeling, no matter how hard I try to forget about it. And believe me, if I had known what I would be going through during my stays at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I definitely would have thought twice.

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**A/N: **I was on the bus today and this just popped into my head. Please review, it means the world to me. :) 


	2. The Beginning of the End

I know this is really chapter 1, but to correspond with the numbers FanFiction assigns and everything, it just makes things a helluva lot easier to just call this chaper 2.

I hereby dedicate the character Veronica Graves to you, Veronica (aka **InLuvWitRupert**). How'd you like them apples!

Now then onto the story! Whooooo!

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Ch. 2 "The Beginning of the End" 

I stepped out of the car and took a big whiff of London. I waved my mom goodbye, then I set off for King's Cross Station – Home of the Scared First Years and Oblivious Muggles. Catchy title if you ask me. HSFYOM. And it can even fit on a bumper sticker.

It was my seventh and last year at Hogwarts, and the fact that I would never be going back - as a student, anyway - was a little disrupting. But, I will survive. With my big, checkered blue trunk, I wove in and out through all the people who had no idea where I was going. I always felt somewhat special knowing that fact. They could never, in a million years guess where I was headed to – only I knew. That's how my brain works, and I figure you should know that, since you're so stuck on reading this.

I reached the barrier and ran through it, keeping my eyes wide open the whole time. Most people close theirs, afraid that they'll be blinded by the rushing wind or something. No, it's much better to keep them open. It's fun watching the "solid" brick wall suddenly slip from your sight and instantly be replaced by the Hogwarts Express. I always look for what fills up the gap between the two, but I can never catch it. Yeah it's disappointing, but suspenseful.

I heard a couple people cal my name, and I gave them small smiles and nods, as if I was as glad to see them as they were to see me. I am so perfectly concealed that even I sometimes fool myself.

"LLLLLLLLLILLIAN EVENS!"

I turned around and laughed. It was Sirius Black, one of the dead-famous Marauders and without a doubt one of the best looking boys in school. He and I have a special connection, and I've lost count of the number of glares I've gotten because of that.

He jogged up to me and gave me a slap on the back – or rather, a punch. I winced and pressed my hand against the spot lightly, and I scrunched my face up into a glare. He threw his head back and laughed. Nothing ever effects that boy – not even Professor McGonogall's deadly Look, dedicated especially for him and was enough to make even a fifth year raise the white flag in a heartbeat.

"Sup, Lily," he greeted. All thirty-two of his pearly-white-make-a-dentist-faint teeth shone. I squinted.

"Hi."

"You excited for the new year?"

What kind of a question was that? Yes, Sirius, I am so excited. I love essays, I love piles of homework, I love working my butt off just to prove that I can. "Of course."

He was rocking on the balls of his feet, swinging his fists lightly at his sides. "I'm looking for James. You seen him?"

"Not recently." I was now glancing around, looking for Veronica, giving Sirius my un-full attention.

"Okay," he sighed. "Well, I'm gonna go look for him. Come to our compartment later, okay?"

"Look out for me, I love sneak attacks," I joked. Sirius cracked a smile, the one only I could unleash, and half-skipped away. I saw him wink at a group of groupies. The Queen Groupie winked back at him, then turned back to her friends, chest puffed out as if she had just done the most _amazing_ thing. I could almost see her thanking the academy.

I shook my head and headed for the train, scanning the windows to see which ones were empty. I guess I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, because I ran into someone, head-on. I looked up, and what do you know, it's _him._

James Potter.

James Potter . . . how to describe him . . . I guess I'll have to start with his _face_. His face is truly one of a kind. It's an in-your-face kind of face – one that will grab your eyeballs and hold them so tightly that sometimes it hurts. Some faces kind of blend into the background, and you have squint to see them properly. That is not James Potter.

"Hi, Lily." That's what he said to me. He'll say that to me all the time, hoping that maybe one day I'll say hi back. He sometimes reminds me of a little puppy; the kind that will follow you around the house and yelp until you feed it scraps of your dinner under the table. I'll sometimes find myself having urges to just reach out and pat James on the head, or give him a bone – whichever one will make his tail stop wagging.

"James."

We were never really that close. Maybe a, "Are you still using that book?" here, or a, "Here, let me get that," there. Then one day in fourth year, he became the president of my fan club. And vice-president, and secretary, and treasurer. He was obsessed with getting to know me, and no matter how hard I push him away, he pushes back even harder. I felt stuck in one of those revolving doors at the mall.

James smiled at me. I've noticed that his smile can't be equal on both sides; it _has_ to be lopsided. Maybe it's a disease, like he's allergic to equal smiles.

Him: So how was your summer?

Me:

Him: Mine was okay. My older sister finally got herself a flat and my little sister took over her old room.

Me:

Him: I heard that you went to Italy. Did you see the Pope?

Me:

Him: Did you go to Rome? I hope you saw the Sistine Chapel. I went there two years ago. It's really something, huh? I never knew what Muggles were capable of, no offense.

Was this guy something else or what?

I cleared my throat. "Yeah." I saw Veronica climb onto the train, and I pushed past James, not giving him a "See ya later," or even just a "Later." That was the way out relationship was.

"Veronica!" I called. She turned around and smiled.

She will kill me once she reads this, but I don't care. The first thing that you notice about Veronica Graves is how unbelievingly gorgeous she is. I was a little skeptical at first about being her friend because I felt really intimidated. But she wouldn't let that happen; Veronica Graves it the kindest person you'll ever meet, and it pays having someone like her as your best friend.

She dimpled and gave me a quick one-armed hug, as I was still dragging my trunk around with me. She helped me haul it onto the train, telling me all about her summer as we went. Her mother had a baby, and Veronica was the happiest girl in the world. Even now I can't get her to shut up about that damn baby.

" . . . She ate her first bite of real food last week, can you believe it? Jennifer is the most adorable thing to ever face this earth, I'm telling you. Did I tell you how _blue_ her eyes are? It's like she took a handful of the sky and just . . . You have to see her, she's so great . . ."

Veronica is usually a quiet person, and is so patient you'd think she wasn't human. But once she gets on a topic she's interested in, she can go _on_ and _on_ and _on_. She can get so motivated in something she believes in that sometimes it's scary. She could have been a lawyer or something, but she doesn't have the temper. I think her anger genes got lost in the gene pool. It will take a very brave swimmer to touch the bottom and bring up that lost gene, and it's a good thing I'm a certified scuba diver.

She led me into her compartment and placed my trunk in the far corner, still talking about her _beautiful new baby sister_. We felt the train start to move after a few minutes, and Veronica was still talking. This girl stayed on that topic for at least an _hour_. Like I said, motivation.

I leaned back in my seat and pressed my fore and middle finger to my temple, trying to let my mind drift. Veronica has dubbed this as Lily's Thinking Position, with the subtitle Leave Me Alone. She paused and laughed at my position. She has such the sweetest laugh. Her light brown eyes twinkle and her cheeks flush. Sun streamed in through the window and it illuminated her light brown hair, showing off her golden highlights. And all natural. I was such a jealous little prick.

"Am I boring you?" she asked.

"Not at all." I never was too good with lies.

She raised an eyebrow at me and laughed again. If her laugh wasn't so pretty, the frequency of it would have been extremely annoying.

As I've said before, I never was good at lies, but I was fantastic at changing the subject. "I promised Sirius I'd go to his compartment," I stated. "Let's go."

"I think I'm going to stay here and read," she smoothly rejected. She's been afraid to make human contact with the guys for awhile now. I had no idea what she was afraid of, but my curiosity kicked in and it was out of my hands.

"Then I'm not going." I sat down and crossed my legs, letting her know that I meant business.

"Yes, you are," she gently pressed.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No."

This was her cue to blow up and yell, but since she's physically incapable of anything that _extreme_, and sighed daintily. "Please go."

"Why won't you come."

"I just want to read my book." Arguing makes Veronica wilt, and her voice was starting to fade. That girl can make you feel so incredibly guilty, it's not even funny.

"You can read it later," I stubbornly argued.

"I want to read it now."

"Are you afraid of them?"

"I'm not afraid of anyone."

"Then come."

"I want to read."

"Veronica!"

"Lily."

I stopped talking. If it was anyone else I would have pressed on, but I wasn't talking to anyone else. Veronica can silence a room with that voice. That's her I Mean Business voice. No one messes with that voice.

"Okay." I accepted my fate. I gave Veronica a small friendship hug before I left. She had won the battle, and I had a bullet hole in my head.

I stepped out of out compartment and closed the door, and then it hit me. I had no idea which compartment was Sirius's. I was at the front of the train, and there were at least . . . one hundred of those things. I sighed in defeat and unwillingly began my search. Yes, that's right, I checked every single compartment. Insane, I know, but I was too stubborn to quit.

I reached the very last one, and I knocked. The loud laughing ceased and the door slid open. Bingo.

"Li-ly," Sirius greeted smoothly, breaking my name into even syllables. "Sup."

"Veronica's not coming," I said shortly. "Don't ask why." I still have no idea why I say that, since once I do they still ask.

"Why?"

"She has her reasons." I didn't like it when people pryed into her life; to this day I am still overly protective of her. She's too nice to see the evil in anyone, and that can lead to some problems - mainly concerning the Slytherins. So here I am, Veronica's protective older sister, armed with fangs and sarcastic comebacks.

Since Sirius is a guy, he really didn't care what was wrong with her, and he just shrugged it off. "Whatever." He stood aside to let me through, and I took a seat close to the door, with Sirius in the middle of me and James; Peter and Remus across from us.

The guys launched back into their talk about whatever, and I tried to pay attention. Honestly I did. But my thouhts dragged me elsewhere, and in a matter of minutes I was in the middle of one of C.S. Lewis's adventures, with Aslan the lion guarding me from a gang of gryffins. I don't know how long I was out, but what brought me from my stupor was the feeling of being watched. I turned my attention to the causer, and there, with his head turned completely towards me, eyes bulged and intent, was James. By that time I was fed up with his actions towards me, so I fed him an unwanting glare and shifted my attention to Sirius and his conversation. It was about Zonko's planning on going out of business, or something like that. James thankfully got the hint, and also proceeded into the discussion.

I stayed in that compartment for the remainder of the train ride, and after letting myself be comforted by my surroundings, joined into the discussions. The train finally grew to a stop, and I immediately joined Veronica, who was once again bright-spirited and smiling. We walked into Hogwarts for our final time as students, and here begins my story.

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A/N: I've never done anything like this before, and I don't really know how I'm doing. If you have any comments, questions, ideas, ect., I'd be really glad to hear 'em. I thank all my reviewers for this story, you all rock, and I can't wait to see what you all think of this chapter. As for those of you who are curious about "Miracles Happen" - don't worry; I'm still working on that one, I'm not tired of it yet, I still have ideas, expect a new chapter . . . whenever I post it. If you have ideas for THAT one, give 'em to me. I will be more frequent with my posting (I HOPE) on FanFiction, as all my projects and reports for school are done with. Uh, that's all I can really think of saying right now...adios amigos. 

**P.S. IF YOU CAN THINK OF A TITLE FOR THIS PLEASE GIVE IT TO ME I AM DESPERATE!**


	3. Him

Ch. 3 "Him"

You know those nights where you can't fall asleep because you have too many thoughts in your head, so you concentrate on nothing, but you end up thinking about all those thoughts anyway because you were concentrating too hard on not concentrating on them? This was one of those nights.

2:58 AM.

It wasn't as late as I thought. I sat up in bed and let my feet hit the cold floor. My toes scrunched up from the sudden contact, but I ignored them. I went to the foot of my bed, to where my trunk was, and I opened it. At the very bottom, wrapped up in some of my mother's tissue paper, was IT. IT was what I had feared. IT was what I was too scared too look at, afraid that it would disappear if I did, vanish without a trace, except for the pounding thought in my head telling me I could have done something. But I was tired of being afraid. I scooped it up in my hand and let the weight sink into my palm. IT felt cool and smooth, and I wrapped my fingers around it.

Grunt.

My body froze. No, it wasn't a water buffalo; it was Rachel Burrey, the Human Water Buffalo. She appeared flawless in the daytime, with her perfect teeth, long legs and perky personality, but at night she grunted and snored, like the water dwelling beasts I once saw on the Discovery Channel. What a classic combination. I wonder what her parents think.

I had not awoken the Beast, as I had further observed. I heard her turn over, and then she began mumbling about not letting Ronald Raegan steal her cheese crackers.

I tiptoed downstairs, and into a tall red chair in the far corner of the common room. I brought my knees up to my chin and I unwrapped my prize.

IT just so happened to be the head girl badge.

It's not like I was afraid of the position – oh no. I've wanted to be head girl ever since I first saw one – when I was in my first year. She was rather burly and had a moustache, and smelled faintly of peanuts. Not the best first impression, I know, but what I admired so much was the way the badge _gleamed_ against her black robes, and the way everyone – prefects, teachers, everyone – had a sense of respect for her. She was one of the top students _in the school_; if that wasn't rewarding enough I don't know what is.

No, what I was afraid of was the thought that if I…admired it too much, or if I was too proud of it, that it might go away. I was afraid that this was just a dream – a nightmare where my biggest wish would suddenly disappear from my grasp, regardless of how hard I held on to it. So, I kept it locked up in my trunk, sure that I wouldn't let it disappear. And I haven't looked at it, or felt it, until now.

I silently folded away the blue tissue paper, letting the badge finally reflect what candlelight was left. I let the wrapping fall to the floor, and I held my reward with both hands. I ran my thumb over the scripted words, lightly indenting the precious silver. My forefinger grazed the pointed bottom, and I sucked in my breath. Someone was there.

I snapped my head towards the dormitory stairs. I felt my eyes narrow slightly and I held my legs closer to my chest. The badge fell softly into my lap and I didn't take my eyes off him.

He was just standing there, an empty glass in his hand, hair tousled from sleep and eyes drooping. His plaid pajama pants grazed the floor as he strode over to my seat, navy blue shirt shifting with his arm movement. He didn't say anything to me, just glanced to my lap and then to my clenched hands. His brow lifted slightly and he looked at me.

"You surprised me," I answered his silent question.

He yawned widely, not bothering to cover his mouth, and scratched the back of his head, ebony hair shifting into an even more unbrushed position, and him not bothering to fix it.

"It's late," he whispered hoarsely. I never knew you cared, James.

"Not tired."

He shrugged slightly and shifted his weight. "You'll regret it in the morning."

"Then I'll regret it in the morning."

He barked a quiet laugh and lazily looked around the common room. "What time is it?" he asked, still in that half-asleep voice.

"Late."

He looked at me and smiled. "Did you study for the Charms test?"

"I know it."

His grin grew wider. "Of coarse," he said, as if he was remembering a fond memory. "Miss Charms. You always were the best."

I almost smiled. I almost said thanks. I almost stood up and asked him about the next Quidditch game. But I didn't. I was glued to my seat, and the small badge in my lap felt like it weighed a ton. I emitted an ugly sound from the back of my throat instead, and then coughed.

"Mmm," he murmured, smile still plastered on his face. I could see the faint outline of a moustache in his upper lip, and his eyes were really dark. Not creepy dark – more like a soothing, familiar dark. I can't describe it.

He shifted his weight from one foot to another again, and his eyelids were covering half his eye. He blinked once, then let them droop again.

"Go to bed."

He looked up. His eyes pierced mine. I felt unsure about everything. I couldn't even remember if I was sitting down or not. Without another word, he shuffled his feet towards the stairs and slowly climbed the stairs. His voice carried down, and, quiet as it was, rang in my ears.

"Night, Lil."

And then it hit me. James Potter was a completely different person when he was half-asleep.

—

Veronica's head swung like mad, her hair swinging in her face. Her eyes were wide and her lips were pale. All I did was ask her if she wanted to have lunch with Sirius.

"_Please_, Veronica?"

"No."

"Why not!" I whined. We had been going on like this for awhile now.

"I want to read."

"You're reading too much! You'll turn into a book if you don't stop!"

"Then I won't have to go to the library to read."

"Veronica!"

"What?"

"Why not?"

She sighed impatiently and swatted her hair from her face. This was as close as she ever got to yelling. "I don't need a reason for everything I do," she snapped.

I narrowed my eyes and sucked my teeth. There was something she was not telling me.

"Lily," she said in her I Mean Business voice. "Please go."

I stood up from my seat in the library. I looked down at her sitting there, ankles crossed and eyes cast downward. I had no idea what was going on, so I just left. She'd come around, sooner or later. I was hoping for the sooner.

It was around noon, and lunch was being served. Sirius had decided that we didn't see enough of each other, so he arranged our lunch date. I walked into the Great Hall, and spotted him waving me over, to the far end of the table, closest to the wall.

I walked towards him and grinned. There was a blow-up doll in the seat next to him that looked oddly like me. Sirius had his arms around "her" and was tickling its chin. I walked up to him and raised an eyebrow. He shot me a glare and hissed, "Can't you see I'm on a date?"

I laughed and sat down next to the doll, immediately scooping food onto my empty plate. Sirius completely ignored me, and was having a full-on conversation with the blow-up doll. I looked at Remus across the table confusedly and he shrugged.

"He's weird," he simply told me. I grinned and began stuffing my face.

I began thinking about the homework I forgot to do, so I didn't hear most of James, Remus, and Peters' conversation. All I heard was the last bit of James's sentence.

"…Quidditch game this week? First game of the season, you know. Guess who the star player is." He flexed his muscles mockingly and laughed along with the rest of the guys. I grabbed my goblet and took a sip, but I sucked in a breath at the same time, and I think we all know what happens then. James's head snapped in my direction, just as I was pounding on my chest to stop the coughing.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Fine," I wheezed, then drank down the last of my water.

"So," he said, as if he was continuing our conversation, "are you going to the Quidditch game?"

I blinked. "Yeah," I said slowly. "I always go."

He grinned at me, then resumed talking to his friends. I wiped my mouth with my napkin, and looked around, looking for something to do. I glanced at Sirius, who was still blabbering to the imaginary me. I stood up and ruffled his hair. "Thanks for the meal, Black."

He looked up at me and smiled. "Anytime."

So I stood up, and I noticed that Veronica actually had come to lunch, but was sitting at the far end of the table. The other far end.

"Hi," I said. I plopped my bag on the table and took the seat across from her. She looked up.

"Hello."

I smiled, and there was a silence. I glanced around the Great Hall, and Veronica said, "How was your lunch?"

"You'd know if you'd have been there." I was instantly angry at myself for saying that, and I looked at my lap.

Veronica didn't say anything. I didn't expect her to. She went back to her Potions essay, and only the scratching of her quill was heard.

W sat like that until we were the only ones left in the Great Hall. Everyone else had left for his or her next class; even the teachers retreated to the staff room. I looked at Veronica, who was still hunched over her work, working on her third foot of parchment. I was still mad at myself for snapping, so I just stood up and left. My next class was Divination, which was all the way at the top, in North Tower. To get there I had to cut through the Potions corridor if I wanted to get there reasonably on time. And I really didn't like going through the Potions corridor. _Please let them all be in class… _

I gulped slightly and tightened my grip on my bag. The hallway was empty; my shoes clicked against the cold floor, echoing on the dim walls. This was the Slytherin Corridor – their common room was here somewhere and this is where they liked to hang out. I kicked myself for staying in the Great Hall for so long.

Something fell to the floor with a loud clang. Something that wasn't mine. I froze.

Someone snickered. I swung around and darted my eyes in all the crevices and corners I could find. _I'm making myself crazy, _I thought. _There's nobody here – _

A hand to my back slammed me into the wall. A couple torches went out, so it was even darker then it had been a couple seconds ago. Someone's hand reached out and grabbed my cheeks, squeezing my lips together painfully. My head was snapped forward, and into the dark profile of my fate.

He leaned forward. I felt his breath on my cheek. I smelled his sweat. I tasted his yearning. His mouth went to my ear, and I heard him laugh again.

"He wants you."

My legs were shaking and my knees were bumping each other. I felt my bag hit the floor. His grip on me tightened and he twisted my arm behind my back. I winced in pain and tears shot into my eyes. I suddenly heard a loud crack and my whole arm went numb. I felt a fierce pain in my shoulder and I almost screamed. I almost fought back. But he paralyzed me. I was the mouse and he was the cat. He was the one with the gun to my head. And I was the hostage, blindfolded with a lone cigarette hanging from my lips.

He forced me to the ground. I fell with a pitiful thump. I was so weak. He had me. He knew how to hurt me. He knew what got to me. He had me.

Pain, that's all I remember. Bruises, bleeding, cuts. All I could think of was, why? What had I done to him? I never wanted to hurt him; I never wanted to hurt anyone. So why me? What did I do?

Then he stopped. Everything stopped at that moent; the world stopped rotating when he stopped. Everything was dead silent. I didn't even hear him lean over. I didn't feel him move my hair until his lips were directly against my ear.

"He wants you."

I cried. That was all I could do. But I didn't cry from my physical pain. I cried because I realized what he would do to achieve his goal. Lord Voldemort had a wish, a dream, and no one would ever know the lengths he would go to achieve that dream. He would stop at nothing to make his dream reality. And nothing leaves so many options.

I heard him leave. His hard, heavy boots threw themselves onto the cold ground. That sound rang in my ears, and grew steadily quieter, until they were gone. And I just lay there. I couldn't move; I didn't want to. I closed my eyes and let my cheek rest on the smooth ground, letting the coldness numb my bruises. I don't know how long I lied there.

The next thing I heard was laughing. Happy, gleeful laughing. I wanted to get up and scream at the laugher. I wanted to shout, how could you be laughing when I am in this much pain? How can you ever be happy knowing all that goes on in the world? In your own backyard?

I actually tried to stand up. I lifted my head from the ground and squinted down the hallway. I blinked blood out of my eye and, with all the strength I could muster, I screamed.

The laughing stopped. "Oh my God."

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A/N: Yeah, I know the mood REALLY changed, but I felt the need. And I introduced Voldemort! he has to pop up sometime, why not now. Please review! 

My name change. It isn't permanent, but I got bored with my old one, full reason on my profile.

**Arianna**: I love your suggestion and (as you can see) I used it! Tell me where you found that saying, I really like it. Thanks so much for suggesting it to me!

**bonnythebunny**: You were my second reviewer! Now, for the Sirius/Lily issue - I once read a story where Lily and Sirius were close (they dated) and I liked the idea, rather than her thinking he's immature, cuz I see that everywhere. So he might be a LITTLE (cough cough) immature, but Lily doesn't mind it with him. Maybe they were close in a past life or something, I dunno.

**DOJ**: Thank you for the review! it was, as always, very rewarding, and I'm glad you like the story and, Lily's POV, basically. I hope you like this chapter, even though it doesn't really explain alot! Sorry about that...

**Queen Of Day Dreams**: I'm really glad you like the story! And your title suggestions were really helpful! ANd I'm really glad you actually did try to help...I wasn't expecting that many people to offer ideas. I hope to get another review from you!


	4. White Mansion

The couple paragraphs in italic is Lily's dream. So slanted is dream, non-slanted is not a dream. Yeah.

I NOW HAVE A BETA! YEAH! Thanks Morgan, you rock. Yeah I'm totally mentioning you. How'd you like them apples! Whoo, I will never get over that.

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Ch. 4 "White Mansion"

I blinked my eyes open. The whiteness of the Hospital Wing nearly blinded me. The second I woke up, it was like I was hit by a speeding bus. The second I opened my eyes, I was fully aware of the state I was in. And let me tell you, it wasn't pretty.

As if on cue, the door at the end of the empty room flew open, and Madame Hart barged her way in. She scurried over to my bed, feeling my forehead and taking my pulse at the same time.

"Good morning dear how did you sleep did you sleep at all when you came here you were in such a bad state how does your head feel is it still bleeding I don't think it is why don't I get you your medicine can you sit up can you move your arm you don't have a fever here's an extra pillow that's right sit up you need your medicine wait here don't move I'll be right back."

I watched her rush back out the door, and then there was silence. You can't say the word multi-task without Madame Hart coming to mind.

I was in an empty ward in the Hospital Wing; with all the other white beds empty and perfectly made, it gives you a major sense of…aloneness. It makes you want to pray for anyone—your mother, your best friend, your one-legged step-cousin— _anyone_, to burst through the door and unsettle the silence, create some disorder, break the tension; anything that takes your mind off of where you are.

Madame Hart entered the room again, pouring a large amount of gunk onto a spoon as she walked. "Here, drink this."

Yes, I resisted, but Madame Hart wouldn't see to that. One mannish hand griped my shoulder while the other maneuvered the spoon into my mouth and down my throat. I coughed as the thick liquid burned my throat, and greedily gulped down the water she offered me. She nodded at me, took away the empty glass, of which I was trying to coax the last few water droplets out and into my burning mouth, and left. Whatever she gave me caused my eyelids to feel like twenty-pound bricks, and it was all I could do to keep them open. But I soon gave in, and I was out like a light.

-

The white mansion, gleaming in the distance was one of the most magnificent things she had ever seen. Green ivy snaked its way around the great pillars guarding the door; the green stood out unmistakably against the pure white of the house. The mansion seemed to radiate in all its might, casting a dark shadow over the neighboring houses. Even from her spot on the hill, miles away from the mansion, she could see every detail. Even she could witness its perfection, its symbolism. One of the pearl white doors opened, emitting a breeze of freshness over all that surrounded the great building. She closed her eyes, letting the wind caress her hair, allowing her robes to rise and flap freely behind her. Her arms rose on either side of her, fingers emerging from her closed fists, nestling against the coolness of the breeze. She was free. Nothing could steal this moment from her. It was hers.

She opened her eyes. She wasn't outside anymore. She was inside the mansion, standing in the middle of one of the largest rooms she had ever witnessed. She craned her neck up, looking at the never-ending ceiling. It seemed to go on forever, the pure color never fading. The floor had no carpet; the marble so shiny she could see her reflection in it. The spotless walls bore nothing; the whole of the room was so bright, the girl's eyes watered, but she strained to keep them open. Then something caught her eye. She looked down.

Color clashed with color. Red pouring out from its unknown source, leaving a permanent stain on the white floor. The girl watched it flow steadily, until the entire room was covered in red. Red walls, red ceiling, red floor—hungrily devouring any trace of whiteness, ending its existence. The girl looked down at her clothes. She was wearing a blood-red evening gown, red pearls winking at her against the red silk.

Then she heard the laughing.

It was close, right against her ear. She could feel breath hitting her skin, captivating her in a hot, sticky enclosure. She spun around, but no one was there. She could still hear it, still feel the hot breath, but she couldn't see it. The laughing grew louder, and the breath grew hotter, until it seemed as if it was the entire room laughing at her; mocking her tears, mocking her screams, mocking her desperate attempts to open the locked door at the end of the room.

The laughter rang in her ears; it played with her mind; it clutched her lungs so forcefully she couldn't breath.

By the time she was aware of the hand covering her face, it was too late.

She almost removed the hand. She almost fought back. She almost silenced the laughter. But it was too late. She was falling. She looked up and saw the never-ending ceiling rising farther and farther from her reach. She saw the red walls fly farther and farther from her grasp. She saw the person grow smaller and smaller, until he was a tiny dot in her imagination, and nothing more.

The last thing she heard was crying. Loud, desperate crying that pained her to hear. She wanted to stop the crying so badly— just hold the crying baby in her arms and tell it everything was going to be okay. But she couldn't. It was too late. He had her.

My eyes snapped open and I flew to an upright position, ignoring the stabbing pains running through my body. My heart has pounding and I had to take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down. I had never, EVER experienced a dream quite like that. I was panting slightly, and I looked around the darkened room. How long had I been asleep? Even from my bed I could see the crescent moon glowing against the black night sky. The trees at the entrance to the Forbidden forest swayed slightly, and all was silent. The only sound that was heard was me catching my breath.

I was wide-awake. My dream was the only thing circulating through my mind, and I knew that if I didn't think about it now, I'd be going crazy by the end of the week. Without thinking I grabbed my robe, which was folded neatly at the end of my bed, and dashed out of the Hospital Wing, careful not to wake up Madame Hart. The second I closed the door to the Hospital Wing, I felt free. No one was awake, Madame Hart didn't know where I was, and the only thing I wanted to do was run.

That's where I hit a speed bump.

You see, it's quite near impossible to break into a sprint with your right elbow in a cast, your left ankle in to much bandaging you were a few inches taller, and your left ear and most of your eye covered in gauze. So, because of my state, I, limped I suppose, to the Gryffindor common room.

It took a few minutes of badgering for me to finally awaken the Fat Lady and mumble out the password, and when I entered the room, she slammed shut loudly, informing me of how irritated she was. I retreated to my chair—the tall red one in the far corner of the common room that no one else sat in. It was practically hidden by the shadow of the girls' dormitory stairs and a portrait of Godric Gryffindor, but it was still there. And let me tell you, it was the comfiest chair in the whole room.

Just as I sat down, I heard the portrait door open again, and I scowled. How hard is it for one girl to have a bit of damn privacy?

A mop of black hair protruded through the entrance, silver-rimmed glasses sliding down the bridge of his narrow nose. James looked up at me and shoved the last bite of a cupcake into his mouth. He swallowed and asked, "What are you doing here?"

The minute I saw him, I had an overpowering urge to conceal all my cuts and bruises. For some reason I didn't want him to see me like this. I leaned as far back into my chair as I could, as far into the shadows as possible. "I could ask you the same thing," I smoothly responded.

He wiped a bit of icing from his lip and stuck his finger in his mouth. "I was hungry. What's your excuse?"

"I don't _need_ an excuse to be down here," I defended.

He simply shrugged his shoulders. "Fair enough." He eyed me in my spot intensely and cocked his head. "Why are you all in the shadows? Why don't you come out?"

I blinked, trying to think of answer. "Why not," was the lame product of my intense contemplation.

But he just chuckled. "Okay then, I'll come to you." And he began walking towards me.

"James, you arrogant bastard," I said to him, hoping that I'd scare him off. What is wrong with me?

He chuckled again and kept moving. He was right in front of me, and he held out his hand. His left hand. So I would have to hold out my cast-covered right hand. I froze.

I could see his brow deepen in confusion, and he shook his hand slightly, as if I forgot it was there. Still I didn't move.

He quickly grew impatient. He leaned over, gripped his hands around the two front legs of my chair, and pulled it out into the light. He stood back up and laughed, but then he caught sight of me and stopped. He froze, he didn't move. He just _stared. _

"Lily," he breathed after a moment's silence.

With my head bent downward, I looked up at James. I felt incredibly small at that moment, with him gaping at my appearance, and me not doing anything about it.

"Lily," he repeated softly.

I looked down at my lap and didn't say anything. I felt my cheeks burning up and I couldn't move. Yep, something was definitely wrong with me.

"Wha—Lily, wha—what happened to you?"

"It's nothing."

He snorted loudly. I cringed. "If you call getting the stuffing knocked out of you nothing, then okay."

I stood up and angrily went towards him. I doubt my limping, bruised self was menacing, but, hey, I try. I went up to him and began jabbing him in the chest, punctuating my anger.

"You (jab) don't know anything (jab). You have no idea what happened to me, or what _didn't_ (jab) happen, so you can just shut your trap (jab)!"

He glared at me, then ran his eyes over my body, and I saw them soften again. "Lily," he began in that same soft voice.

"What?" I snapped, still angry with him.

He sighed exhaustedly. "We have to get you to the Hospital Wing."

"I was just there. I'm _fine_, James."

He sighed again, and looked me straight in the eye. "When are you going to sleep?"

"Whenever I get tired."

"Will you be sleeping here?"

"No." I was too tired to explain the whole Hospital Wing fiasco.

His eyes darted from mine to the bandaging on my head one last time, then his eyes flickered downward and met mine. "Okay," he said. "I'm still checking on you in the morning, whether you like it or not."

I rolled my eyes and tried to look like I didn't care. "Whatever."

He gave me one last lopsided grin, and trudged his was up the dormitory stairs.

"Night, Lil," I heard him say.

I looked at the spot in front of me where he once stood, and even I couldn't control the smile that jumped onto my face. Then something popped into my head. I had the biggest urge in the world to tell James about my dream. I almost did, too. I almost went upstairs to his room, opened his curtains and told him everything. But I didn't.

My eyes flickered to the nearest clock, and they widened when I found out the time. Even I somewhat doubted that Madame Hart would be awake at 4:30 in the morning, but old people run on a completely different time schedule. Ten in the morning to them is like noon to us. Crazy, I know.

Nevertheless, I got back to the Hospital Wing as fast as I could. I buried myself as deep into the sanitized blankets as I could go, and finally went to sleep.

_

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_

**A/N, read me**: Okay, the dream might be a little confusing, but I sort of intended it to be that way. I think I got a little too carried away with the symbolism, so I'm really sorry if you can't make heads or tails of it. The guy covering Lily's mouth, peventing her from breathing, was her fate, in human form, I guess. The man symbolizes...Voldemort, and the fact that because he was a person, Lily could have pushed him away, meaning Lily's death in the books WAS preventable, but once it was happening, she was powerless. That's really the best I can explain it.

All my reviewers, I love you! You people rock my world, full on.


	5. Unexpected Realizations

Ch. 5 "Unexpected Realizations"

When I woke up the next morning, I was greeted by Veronica's warm smile and incredibly bright eyes. She was sitting on a small chair on the side of my bed, hands folded in her lap primly. I really don't know how she can sit like that; the only way I can get completely comfortable is it I have one arm draped over the back and one leg thrown over one or the arms. She beamed at me and I couldn't help but quirk a smile.

"You look happy," I commented dryly.

"You're awake," she simply stated. "I was worried, you know."

"About me?" I asked. I blinked my eyes open and propped my back up on my pillows.

She rolled her eyes good-heartily. "No, I was worried about the duck in my closet."

"So that explains the quacking…"

Veronica laughed. "Yes, about you, Lily. I mean, have you taken a look in the mirror?"

I looked down at my bandaging, which after only two days I was quite used to. "It's not that bad," I mused. "And thanks to Madame Hart I don't feel a thing."

"Good," she said. "You scared the hell out of me, you know. And that poor Ravenclaw boy—"

"What poor Racenclaw boy?" I hastily asked.

She blinked once, obviously surprised that I didn't know. "He was the one who found you in the Potions corridor. He's a fourth year, name's Brian Daniels. He was on his way to the kitchens and he heard you scream, and that's when he found you. Said you looked a mess. What did happen to you, anyway? I only know what I heard."

I swallowed slightly and better positioned myself. "Um, what did you hear?" I asked, a bit nervous to hear whatever rumor had started about me.

Veronica smiled. "That you dueled a giant troll, and ended up on the floor when you attempted to levitate yourself and your hand slipped."

I snorted.

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "The gossip these people are spreading is really ridiculous," she said."I mean, there are so many errors to that one sentence, and yet it's spreading like wild fire."

I shrugged. "Stupid people."

She laughed heartily. "Yeah," she said slowly, a smile captivating her pale face. Then her eyes suddenly widened in realization. "Oh!" she exclaimed, waving her arms in excitement.

"What?"

"Oh!"

"What?"

"OH!"

"WHAT, VERONICA, WHAT!"

She smirked. "_Someone_ is here to see you," she said in a very know-it-all voice.

"Who?"

Her smile grew so large I'm surprised it didn't eat her face. "_James_," she said loudly, dragging out the syllables.

"Okay…" I really didn't see what the big deal was.

She laughed. "It was so funny, Lil. He came here the second the Hospital Wing was open. I saw him waiting outside the door, too. He was _very_ intent on seeing how you were doing." Even she couldn't help but unleash the fit of giggles that had been growing at a steady rate. She threw her head back and buried her face in her hands, laughing as if there was no tomorrow. As you might've guessed I was far from embarrassed.

Now, when I get embarrassed, I tend to blush. And when I blush, it can't help but spread all over my face. So with my red face, and my red hair, and my green eyes, I tend to resemble a chili pepper. Not exactly flattering if I do say so myself.

"Send him in," I mumbled quietly, carefully hiding my face behind a curtain of hair.

With one last grin, Veronica stood up and left, closing the door quietly behind her. I only had about three seconds before the door re-opened and in came James Potter. He quickly caught sight of me and shone me a toothy grin. "Hey," he greeted warmly as he took a seat where Veronica once was.

"Hello."

He propped his elbow up on my bed and placed his chin on his palm. "Did you get your potion yet?" He looked at me expectantly and actedas if we conversed like this every day.

"Yes," I shortly answered.

"You feeling better?"

"Yes."

"Feel anything?"

"Not really."

"How much homework do you have?"

"Enough to keep me busy."

I don't know if you can notice this, but my enthusiasm wasn't exactly radiant. This might have effected someone else, but oh no, not James.

He twinkled at me merrily. "Sirius did the funniest thing today. It was a prank, you know? Even I didn't know about it. He turned all the Slytherins' food this morning into live fishes. Malfoy's jumped into his mouth and he almost swallowed it. There was complete chaos." He smiled contently at me, as if even the mention of pandemonium was luxurious. "He was worried about you, you know," he added before I could comment on his last statement. "We all were. You really scared the crap out of us."

"How?" I asked, my interest in our conversation growing.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, a sudden frown captivating his face. "Well, one minute you're in the Great Hall with us, perfectly fine, and the next minute you completely disappear, reappearing in the Hospital Wing hours later. Veronica was going mental. We eventually got one of your roommates to calm her down, but she was still scared to death."

"For me?" I asked, astonished that I affected so many people.

"Yeah, for you. You're an amazing person, Lily; Veronica knows that. We all do."

I blinked. Was I supposed to respond to that? I hoped it was a rhetorical statement.

He cleared his throat slightly and diverted his attention to a small hole on the neatly pressed quilt covering my bed. A silence followed his bold statement, and I almost drowned in the tension hovering murderously over my room.

"Maybe you should leave." That's what I wanted to say. That's what I was _planning _on saying. But I couldn't. My throat had closed up and I was concentrating too hard on blinking.

James cleared his throat again and looked at me. "So what happened?" A tad blunt if you ask me but at least he said something.

"_Pardón_?"

James smirked at my French attempt. "What happened, I said, to you. "

"I heard you." I crossed my arms and frowned slightly. "You want the whole story?"

"The whole entire thing."

I was slightly taken aback, but for the most part recovered quickly. "Okay." And with that I told him my story, from beginning to end, starting with Veronica's odd behavior and ending with my creepy, somewhat significant dream. And James didn't interrupt once. He rested his fist on his chin, and he stayed like that through my entire speech, not moving, his dark hazel eyes intent and focused. When I finished I inhaled slightly, waiting for his reaction to my bizarre encounters. I expected him to suggest going to Dumbledore, or at least show an ounce of fear, or shock. But he didn't. He didn't move, he barely blinked; I even became worried about the amount of air his lungs were supplying. His eyes narrowed slightly in thought, then he leaned back into his chair, still with the concentrated expression on his face. "Hm," he finally said.

And that was it.

I raised my eyebrows. "Hm?" I repeated.

"Hm."

"'Hm' what?"

He leaned forward again and his face once again became intent. "Well," he began, "there's no doubt in my mind that your dream relates to your encounter with… do you even know who he is?"

I shook my head. "It was really dark. I didn't recognize his voice either."

He nodded. "Well, still, whoever that was wanted to hurt you, and your dream had the same basis. But then in your dream, you're falling away from him, which means that eventually you do escape."

I smiled slightly. "You think so?"

"Seems that way." James suddenly got up and put his face really close to mine. I jumped back slightly, rather surprised at his abrupt action. With him this up-close, I could actually get a pretty good look at the actual color of his eyes. They were a light brown near the pupil, then blended into a darker brown that resembled dark coffee as they reached the outer part of the iris. There were also flecks of gold and yellow mixed in with the brown, creating an odd, yet very charming look unto him. "Just do me a favor, Lil," he suddenly whispered, tearing me from my thoughts.

"Okay," I responded confusedly.

"Just don't get hurt, okay?" Even as he said it, I could tell he really meant it.

"Okay," I said softly repeated. He quickly gave me a small but warm smile and headed for the door.

"Bye, Lil," I heard him say, right before the door clicked shut.

My eyes drifted to the chair next to my bed, with the cushion still indented, marking the place where he once sat. What really got me about James was how he was such an illusion. If you watched James, and listened to him talk to his friends, listened to him woo the many girls that fell like bricks for him, watched him fly through all his classes, and if you formed an opinion of him based on just that, you'd be entirely false. There is a whole different side to James—one he doesn't flaunt around school; one he doesn't let newspaper reporters capture; one he'd rather keep out of the limelight and the ever-growing spotlight, and that is the side that better defines him as a person. I've formed opinions all my life on a guy I thought I knew, and now that James was revealing this softer, less arrogant and ego-charged side, it was like I was meeting a whole new person. And I'm not really the best with strangers.

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A/N: Yeah, I know this isn't my longest chapter, and I apologize for that. Uh... that's all I really have to say. Review! 


	6. Quidditch

Crappy title, deal with it.

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Ch. 6 "Quidditch"

I sighed. Could you blame me? There I was, stuck in the Hospital Wing, all by myself, while the first Quidditch game of the season was going on right outside my window. But it's not like I could _see_ it; the window was tiny and dirty, with crisscrossing bars covering the outside. For protection, I guess. Right, like some crazed maniac would climb up the side of the castle and break into the Hospital Wing, which was like 5,000 feet up, screaming and waving a plastic knife. Now there's something I would sell tickets for.

I vaguely hear the sound of the commentator of the week in the background, hollering at the Slytherin team. His name's Josh Virtue, he's a sixth year Ravenclaw, and he has one of the biggest mouths in the school. He and another sixth year, Adam Dimsle, trade places every other game. Adam has a big mouth too. Looks like both their talents are in good use. Those things are deadly.

I can also hear fans cheering. They sure are loud. One fourth of the stands in green, three fourths in red. That's what I'd see if I wasn't bound to my stupid hospital bed. They all suddenly scream. The thick glass blocks out the noise, but I bet if I was there, I'd have to plug my fingers in my ears. I bet they're all waving their little flags and banners too. If I was there, at the game, I bet someone would flap their flag in my face. But I wouldn't mind. My eyes would be fixed on the players, where the real suspense is.

They're still screaming. Louder than before. I bet someone saw the Snitch. I bet it was James. He's a real good seeker. One of the best. His body's made for it—tall, lean, and quick. And the muscles don't hurt it one bit, either.

Still the screaming goes on. It's deafening. I'm now waiting for the glass to explode. I bet they're all jumping up and down, too. They're not that good at retaining their enthusiasm. I clench my teeth. Everyone's at the game. Even Madame Hart went to the game. Even _Veronica_ went to the game. But I made her. The fresh air is doing her good. Her tight schedule of homework and daily visits to me left no room at all for the outdoors, and there is no doubt in my mind that she forgot what sunlight looked like.

"_He's going for it!_" I hear Josh Virtue scream. He's so loud that I can actually hear him. I groan and throw myself against my pillows. I have to get my mind off the game. I see an off-white spot on the wall. I stare at it. Just as the off-white color begins to bleed into the pure whiteness of the rest of the wall, my head starts to hurt. My eyes begin to water as the spot begins to disappear all together. For my own personal safety I lift my gaze from the spot and force myself to look at something else. I look at the ceiling, and what do you know! There are a BUNCH of off-white spots up there! I wonder how many spots are on one ceiling tile. I begin to count. Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-three… I'm making myself crazy.

Without a second thought I threw back my covers and hopped out of bed. Well, okay, carefully stepped might be a bit more accurate. I shoved my robes over my hospital gown and tied it together, making sure the pale blue gown didn't show, and I set off for the pitch. Insane, I know, but I was going mental, and if I didn't at least see the last few minutes of the game, I would never forgive myself.

I hobbled through the main door and down the corridor, taking extra care as I tackled the stairs. I was not about to trip down three flights of stairs with a broken ankle. Uh uh, no way. I am not about to miss the first game of the season.

Through the Great Hall I went, then out a side door and cut through the eastern grounds. I was a bit wobbly on the grass, but I didn't care. I saw the tip of one of the tall golden goal posts over a couple of trees, and it just dawned on me that I was standing in the middle of the Hogwarts grounds, totally exposed, when I was suppose to be mending in the Hospital Wing.

I froze.

_Duck for cover, duck for cover…_

A sudden noise, like a gunshot, startles me. It is the sound of one thousand people cheering at the top of their lungs at the exact same time. My heartbeat quickens and I blink stupidly. The stands are shaking and it sounds like a heard of buffalo are approaching. I was going to hide under the bleachers but with the slight chance that I might be crushed, I reconsider. Trees are much safer.

"_HE CAUGHT THE SNITCH!_" Virtue shrieks. "_HE CAUGHT THE BLOODY SNITCH! TAKE _THAT_ YOU BUNCH OF BLOODY BASTARDS! RIGHT IN THE _FACE!"

I am so confused, but my insides are jumping. Who caught it? Did we win? Did James catch it? I peek around the tree I was hiding behind and I try to get a glimpse of the field. The players are flying towards the ground. The Slytherins are scowling and shooting Dirty Looks at the Gryffindors and my stomach does a back flip. We won? Yes!

I catch a look at our team. Their smiles are so big they look fake. They're all crowding around one player who flies down last, and he's holding his fist in the air, which clutches the Golden Snitch. James.

Even I can't help but smile. The mood is so chipper you can't help but smile. I do a little air punch with my fist and peek around the tree again. Students and teachers are starting to file out and I snap around. I press my back to the trunk of the tree and I will the branches to lean down and cover me. Fortunately, they're all too distracted with the outcome of the game to notice a crippled girl hiding behind a tree. I bask in my fortune.

I wait until the tidal wave of fans leaves the pitch. I watch some of the Gryffindor team members trudge their way up to the castle, smiles still plastered on their shining faces. I have an urge to pat them on the back, but decide against it. I know I should be heading back to the castle myself, before anyone notices my disappearance, but I can't bring myself to leave. The cool October breeze feels good against my face, and it feels good having my hair lifted off my neck.

I watch the tree branches sway. They move in tune slowly, rocking back and forth, with hundreds of little leaves rustling in the wind. I don't hear any more voices, and I'm pretty sure I saw everyone walk up to the castle. I wait another five minutes just to be sure, then I slowly head for the Quidditch pitch.

There's something about me and Quidditch. If I wasn't so clumsy on a broom I bet I'd be playing it. I wanted to be a seeker. The whole game rests on your shoulders. It is your job to catch the walnut-sized ball in order to win the game. That has got to be the most exhilarating feeling in the world. More exhilarating than getting seven O's on your O.W.L.s, that's for sure. I find it fascinating that James is seeker—one of the only things I look up to him for.

The pitch is a bit bumpy, with footprints and little holes. The normally bright green grass is worn and a bit brown, but I don't mind. I walk to the center of the pitch and I look up at the sky. It's nearing dusk; I can see the setting sun on the horizon. It's a beautiful yellow-orange and the clouds surrounding it are pink and purple. A long, narrow cloud lazily breezes in front of the sun, so the yellow-orange color shines through the cloud, streaking it with color. I wish I had a camera. Or at least a set of paints. I can't paint for crap but scenes like this was what first inspired me to try.

Crunch. "Lily?"

My head snaps down and swivels to my right. James is standing there, in his gold and scarlet Quidditch robes, with a gym bag thrown over his left shoulder and a water bottle in his right hand. His robes are dirty and so is his face. How do you get your face dirty if you're up in the air? Honestly.

I clear my throat. "James." I'm not exactly sure how to act around him anymore. Will he act like he did last week? Or will he act like he did every other day of my life? James made me think, and I really wasn't in the mood.

He walked up to me and shifted the gym bag on his shoulder. "Whatcha doing here?"

I blinked. "I wanted to see the game."

I expected him to scold me for leaving the Hospital Wing, but he didn't. Instead his face broke into a huge grin. His white teeth ruled out his dirty face. "How much did you see?"

"Just the end," I honestly answered. I turned my attention back to the colorful sky and closed my eyes. The breeze felt really good.

"Did you see me catch the Snitch?" I heard him ask.

I was silent for a minute. "I missed that part," I murmured.

Was it just me, or did James's cheerful mood falter a bit? "Oh," he said. "Well you should have. It was right in front of Malfoy's face but he didn't see it."

"Mm."

There was a silence. I expected James to leave, but he didn't. He just stood there. It suddenly felt cold out, and I knew the sun had finally set. "Well, make sure you come to the next one," he said finally. I opened my eyes and looked at him. "I'm a real good player," he added quirkily. He gave me a wink, then turned around and left.

I watched him leave. I watched him turn around, then walk towards the castle, without a backward glance. I watched him until he was a tiny black dot, surrounded by the green of the grounds. I watched him until I couldn't see him anymore, until his shadow was the only thing visible.

I looked back up at the sky. The sun had gone and the sky was a dusty gray. The small breeze I had once enjoyed was now a chill wind. I shivered slightly and, with one last look at where the sun had once been, I turned around and headed back to the school, bracing myself for the scolding Madame Hart was sure to give.

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A/N: This chapter is a bit short, and I'm sorry. I'm just really rushed right now. This chapter might be a bit crappy, but my beta (MORGAN) was busy or whatever, so this is what you're stuck with. I know what I'm doing for the next chapter, and I can sort of promise you that it will be better, and LONGER (crossed fingers) than this one. PLUS, I have 5 days off for Easter Break, so some good must come out of that :) Break starts Wednesday. 

In this fic, James is a seeker. In the movies he's a seeker, in the books he's a Chaser, or whatever. I dunno. James is always a Chaser, and I wanted him to be a seeker. So I don't want any bitchy flames saying, "James isn't a seeker he's a chaser blah blah blah," okay? Good, glad we're clear on that. I also would like to note that James's personality DID change a bit here, but hey, he's a guy, and we all know they aren't perfect. This chapter did introduce some new perspectives, though. Like, Lily's love of Quidditch, and her short attention span, and how she is starting to look at James differently. I think I also did a bit of symbolism on this chapter, what with how the sky was all pretty when he was there, and how it got all cold when he wasn't. This is MY kind of symbolism, and I like it, and it might be popping up a bit in the rest of the story. Here is what I can promise: Lily/James head stuff, filled with conversations! And also some more Marauder mentions, and maybe a bit of Lily's roommates. Review! I want at least 10. Please? But reviews will make me post faster, keep that in mind.


	7. Yin and Yang

**A/N: **I'm BAAAAAAAACK! And it's only been, what, two months? ...Yeah, sorry about that. See, I went through this phase where I just, didn't like HP fiction anymore. I'm reading it less, but I finally got the motivation to continue this story! It is my baby.

Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. I'm kind of experimenting on the way Lily narrates everything, and I... adjusted it a tad here. I'm trying to make her as teenager-like as possible, and yet give her those strange personality traits that no one seems to understand. So, I hope you like it, and I hope her way of seeing things is _somewhat_ understandable. So, _tell me vhat you teenk_.

**Dedication: **This chapter is dedicated to the four friends of mine I met through FanFiction. (where would I be if they hadn't IMed me...) There is Morgan, of course (penname is **Abarraine**), Abbey (**DoNtLetMeGetMe**), Olivia (**TheLovelyLily**), and last but totally not least, Anna (**like wild fire**). They rock.

Now then, READ! And I want reviews! Gracias. :)

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Ch. 7 "Yin and Yang"

Veronica kept staring at him. She literally couldn't stop. The large Ancient Ruins book in her lap lay forgotten, as did the quill she was absently chewing on. I quirked a smile and coughed. Loudly. She jumped slightly and hid her blushing face underneath her hair. I laughed aloud.

Sirius looked up from his chess game curiously. "What's so funny?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing." I glanced back at Remus, then at Veronica's flushed face, and I did the best I could to conceal my grin.

Our original plan was to meet in the common room, but Madame Hart went out of her way to make sure I didn't leave my bed, especially after what happened yesterday, at the Quidditch game. So Veronica, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James all came up to my hospital ward instead. The empty room was loud and disrupting, and I couldn't have been happier. It was all Sirius's idea, bless his little soul. He, too, was concerned for my sanity. Then he dragged his three friends into it. They resisted a little at first, but were now contently gathered around the small table that held Remus's battered chess set, which sported a heated game between himself and Sirius. They were actually sweating.

Then I, of course, dragged Veronica in by the hair—not literally of course, but it could have been by the hair. That girl frowned and protested and narrowed her eyes at me until her face was frozen that way, but I didn't care. I needed her support. Was I really expected to come out alive from a room filled with just the Marauders? No, this time I was armed. They wouldn't dare do anything vulgar in her presence. She's just too darn cute.

"Rook to… I didn't say Queen! What are you doing! No, that's not what I… stop that! Go back! You little… Remus, your chess set is possessed!"

Remus broke into heaves of laughter. His pale lips delicately embraced his pearly white teeth, and his pale skin matched perfectly with his light brown hair and eyes. Drop-dead gorgeous, and yet slightly refined, as if there was so much more to him that he wasn't going to let out any time soon. Perfect match for anyone, really… especially Veronica.

"They're just trying to help you," Remus explained to an infuriated Sirius once he calmed down. "That move would have lost you your Queen, see? Look at my knight…"

He traced the attack pattern on the chessboard and Sirius's eyes widened in realization. "Oh!" Sirius said. He looked down fondly at the Queen piece and patted it on the head. "Thanks, Queenie," he said happily. The Queen piece ducked away from his fingers and began muttering angrily. I laughed.

Sirius turned his head around and looked at me. A slow grin appeared on his face, widening and showing his white teeth. "You think that's funny, Lil?" he asked mischievously. "Why don't you come on down and give it a shot? Here, you can play James. He thinks he's the Master of Chess, too; let's see who's the winner."

James laughed good-heartily but didn't make eye contact with me. I gave Sirius a small smile. "No, thanks," I said. "I'm too tired."

He snorted. "Right, Lily, you're too tired to get out of bed and walk a ferocious distance of two feet from your bed, but you're not too tired to walk the half-_mile _all the way down to the Quidditch pitch."

"That was different," I sniffed. "Anyone should be willing to make sacrifices for Quidditch."

Sirius gave a bark-like laugh. "'Atta girl, Lily," he congratulated. Veronica laughed. Remus glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. I felt like singing.

A new chess game began, and Veronica went back to her homework. I wished I had something to do. Even chess can get boring at times, surprising as that sounds. The room got all silent for a minute, too. The only sounds to be heard was the shuffling of chess pieces on the board and people blinking. I had a tickle in my throat but decided against coughing, afraid I'd ruin the mood.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that James was just as bored as I was. He was slumped in his seat and his eyelids were threatening to close. He was lazily glancing at the chessboard, then sighed dramatically and glanced my way. I pretended not to noticed, and instead looked at him out of the corner of my eye, through a curtain of hair I artfully detached from behind my ear. And he didn't see me.

I am too smart.

James turned his attention back to his closing eyelids, and I was once again bored. I noticed Sirius's uninterested frown, and Remus's blank stare, and it was really obvious that none of us were having much fun. Peter was actually snoring, and Veronica's head was propped up on her fist. She yawned very widely, her vampire teeth glistening in the light.

That was it for me.

"Oh come _on!_"

Everyone's heads snapped in my direction, eyes widened in surprise and confusion. I felt myself flush slightly, but was rather proud for getting the attention of a group of people that once resembled dead fishes.

"What?" Sirius asked, a bit annoyed at my sudden—not to mention loud—outburst.

I hesitated. What was I suppose too say? Let's blow this Popsicle stand! Somehow I didn't think they would appreciate the joke as much as I did.

"Can we… _go somewhere?_" Yeah, right, _that_ was the sentence I was looking for.

Sirius sighed loudly. "And _where_ exactly would you like to go, Lily?" Was he really this use to my short attention span?

I narrowed my eyes a bit. All right then, since my happiness wasn't of major priority, let's talk about them. Book reading, playing chess, snoring, and counting how many times you can blink in a minute sounds like _so much fun_.

Yeah, right.

"I don't know…" I began, breaking off impatiently. I felt myself getting more and more anxious by the second, and all of a sudden I was jittery. It was becoming impossible for me to bear the bleach-scented hospital room for one more minute. My eyes darted from the window to the door absentmindedly, brain searching for a haven for me to escape to.

I heard people talking in the background, but I ignored them. Something to the nature of "she has no self-control" and "where in the hell did you get that bruise from!" I think had more important matters to contemplate on, thank you very much.

Everyone's attention seemed to slip from me to a rather large bruise on Sirius's forearm, which he was saying he got from a mountain troll up on the outskirts of his summer home in Bulgaria. I knew for a fact he had no such house, and was only stating he did for egotistic and self-amusement reasons.

_Men, _I thought as I attempted to lift myself out of bed. The crisp, starched sheets lining my mattress crinkled loudly, and I nervously glanced at Veronica and the Marauders. Sirius, thankfully, was keeping them entertained enough for me to slip out of my bed and dash for the door. Well, okay, hobbled.

Just as I was closing the door, I heard a "Lily?" Even though I had expected this, as I had been in plain sight of them, my heart raced and my head began to spin, as always when I was under pressure. It was because of this that I never was too good at arcade games, such as Pac-Man, as I would get so nervous when being chased by a neon-colored monster that I wasn't able to concentrate on the cherries that made them edible, or at least where I was going.

I scampered out of the Hospital Wing and into the corridor. The door behind me reopened.

"…Lily?"

Naturally, I ignored the person—male, I concluded from the voice—and continued my way down the empty corridor. I was a bit startled by the vacancy of it, but then remembered that is was a Hogsmeade weekend. My heart slowed down a bit, knowing that my chances of being caught were much slimmer. At first I was pondering why Madame Hart hadn't noticed my escape, but I also remembered that she had gone to the aid of a second year Hufflepuff that had been bullied by a gang of Slytherins. They disgusted me, really. The world could be a much better place if it weren't for people like them.

"Um… Lily?"

I smirked. It still pleased me when I was able to confuse James, or at least startle him. I suppose I was doing a bit of both at that moment.

"Lily, are you okay?"

I silently rolled my eyes, instead focusing my attention to the breeze hitting my face from the open windows. I began to walk faster, increasing the intensity of the wind. It was a good break from the stale air I was forced to breathe in my hospital room. Besides, there was no reason for me to explain to James my sudden need for a change of scenery. Only Veronica, and I suppose Sirius, understood the way I work, so I was guessing that was why they didn't follow me. Remus is too laid back to worry about me, and Peter wasn't even conscious.

And that left none other than Mr. Big Shot to come to my rescue.

He quickened his pace to match mine, and his long legs quickly fell in tune to my steps. "Why did you leave?" he asked.

"I told you I wanted to." I didn't want to explain it, but it was looking like I would have to.

"I know, but _why?_"

I sighed. Gosh he was nosy. "I suppose I like a change of scenery," I answered. I took a sharp left, down a less-lit corridor. There were no windows here, and I had a sudden bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

James chuckled lightly. "I take it you like change," he said, not taking notice to my sudden change of personality.

"Change is good," I replied, my attention slipping more and more from him. "Having one thing for too long makes it unbearable."

He looked at me. "You think so?" he asked, in a tone much different then the one he just used.

But I didn't respond. I was too busy concentrating on the uncomfortable feeling I was experiencing, trying desperately to place it.

As we descended further and further into the darkness, the room seemed to get stuffier and it felt like the walls were moving in. I felt myself starting to sweat from the enclosure. A sudden shock came over me, and my hand flew up to meet James's arm to reassure myself he was still there. In my mind, everything made sense; it all clicked. I knew what this reminded me of. Images kept flashing in my mind, almost like a demented slide show; the darkened hallway, the torches going out, his voice in my ear, my mind going blank, his fist colliding with my stomach, the freezing stone floor.

My mind was racing and my grip on James tightened even more. I bunched the cloth from his robe up in my fist so tightly I though my hand was going to fall off. We had stopped moving, and James was saying something worriedly, probably thinking I was some intelligent-starved alien, but I barely noticed; the only thing I was concentrating on was getting the hell out of there.

"James," I whispered, my voice so low even I could barely hear it. "James, we have to go." He kept asking me to repeat myself, barely catching what I said, but my nervous system was starting to fail and I forgot how to open my mouth. I spun around quickly, keeping my eyes focused on the bright torch light at the mouth of the corridor, increasing my speed as I headed towards it. It was almost like I was underwater; I wouldn't be able to breathe again until I reached the surface. It really did feel like I was holding my breath, too—I was getting lightheaded at an alarming rate and my chest was in a tight knot. It took almost all my strength to remind myself to inhale and exhale. I heard James's padded footsteps following me, hitting the ground in an uneven gait as he tried to catch up with me.

The light hitting my face was like a breath of fresh air. I stepped gratefully into the wide corridor, and I could still felt the breeze coming from the open windows. My heart was still racing at the speed of a racehorse, and although I felt better now that I was in a better-lit, larger room, I was still a bit dizzy. That little episode I just had came on rather suddenly, and I was still suffering from the after-affects. I was guessing it was a minor post-traumatic experience—the man attacking me in the Slytherin corridor being the cause—but just because I knew what it was didn't mean I was over it.

"Lily," I heard James call as he jogged up next to me. "Lily, what the hell just happened? We were talking and then all of a sudden…" That's something like what James said to me, but all I remember doing at that part was leaning over and vomiting onto the pearly marble floor.

—

"Here, drink this."

I thankfully accepted the glass of water James handed to me, and drank it down as he took a seat next to me on the corridor floor. I sighed as I finished the water and leaned my back against the wall, closing my eyes and appreciating the silence of the empty corridor.

Although James had practically begged me to, I refused to go back to the Hospital Wing, as I just spent all that time trying to get out, and I still had a few hours until everyone was due back. Besides, Sirius could stall Madame Hart is need be. I also told James not to call for Filch, so he magically cleaned up the vomit himself. My headache was too bad for me to have the willpower to drag myself to the Gryffindor common room, so I decided to stay in the corridor, sprawled out on the floor, mycheek pressed against the cold stone wall. James took the glass from me and Vanished it, probably making it reappear back in the kitchens where he got it. He exhaled deeply and stared at the opposite wall for a moment, before turning his head in my direction. "Wanna talk?" he asked.

I looked at him. "What about?" I asked weakly, trying to move as little as possible not to further upset my dull headache or my upset stomach, still queasy from the retching.

He shrugged. "I don't know," he mused. "School, friends, the weather…"

I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or was actually serious. "I don't know," I replied. "You pick."

He shrugged again—a usual habit, I could tell. "Well," he said, taking a long pause. "That was scary."

His bluntness was a bit surprising. "You were scared?" I asked incredulously, inwardly surprised that James Potter himself was in fact human. _Just guess how I feel… _

"Of course I was scared," he answered, his hazel eyes now at his feet. "You freaked out, how else was I suppose to feel." Even he realized how sharp that sounded. "What I mean is—"

"It's fine, James, I get it."

He looked a bit hurt, but didn't say anything. He once again turned his attention away from me, and there was a silence. My mind began to drift, and I started thinking about my sister, Petunia. And once I started thinking about her, I started wondering what her reaction would be if she had been with me in the darkened corridor instead of James. Would she not care, like she usually does, or would there be a glimmer of worry in hergray-blue eyes? Would she blink and make the glimmer vanish, or would she pick me up and carry me outside, whispering in my ear that everything would be alright, like she did when we were younger? James actually seemed to care, and the difference between him and Petunia became very distinct. They were complete opposites, and they both treated me in entirely different ways. A perfect yin and yang, in my opinion. I suddenly realized James was talking, and his voice pulled me back into reality.

"When do you suppose we should go back?" he asked.

"Never," I replied with an inward grin. "I'm perfectly fine right here."

He laughed a bit. "Yeah, me too." There was something in his voice that made me look at him. I can't explain it, but it was very unfailiar. He smiled at me, and I felt myself grinning back. I repositioned myself on the floor, and for one fleeting, unexpected moment, I was glad it had been James with me in the corridor instead of Petunia.

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**NOT ANOTHER A/N! **Now, dear reader, please note that it is only chapter 7, so the climax of this story will not happen yet. Also, Lily and James's relationship is still growing (remember, they were not exactly close in chapter 2) so don't get irritated, and, please, no splotchy faces that are red from anger. If you are confused by Lily's little episode, also known as a post-traumatic experience, BE REASONABLE! She just had a traumatic experience (her getting really beat up by that guy), and, as she was in a familiar setting (small, dark corridor), it makes sense that she had some flashbacks. I saw it fitting, and it opened a window of opportunity for Lily to notice James's, currently immature, affections. And when I say immature, I mean he is not full-fledge in love yet. I always imagined his feelings to sprout in 7th year from a crush to love love. I also introduced a budding romance between Veronice and Remus. So cute. 

I have probably bored you all to death with this little paragraph, and I will not further keep you from hitting that little purplish button down there that reads "go" or whatever it says. If you review I'll love you forever and ever!


	8. Fairy Tales

**A/N:** SHE _LIIIIIIVES!_ -Audience screams.- HOW CAN THIS BE! SHE WAS SUPPOSE TO BE DEAD! WHY ELSE WOULD SHE NEVER UPDATE!

Hi. -wave.- ...I'm alive! YAY! I know I know, I am possibly the worst updater ever, I know. Stone me, tar and feather me, I deserve it. -hangs head.- But really, sorry for not updating! I've been too busy basking in the fantasy land that is summer vacation, asking it nicely to never leave... highschool's gonna suck. What demented person _ever_ decided that a school should be that _big_! I hope I don't get lost.

This chapter was posted without being beta-d, and I'm posting this late at night, so I haven't had the chance to reread it myself (just want to get the damn thing up!) so I dunno how it is... I daresay it's one of my longer chapters. I wrote about two-thirds of it and realized I was grazing 2800 words, the whole thing is a good 4300. Ah well, the more the merrier!

I am listening to "The Speed of Sound" by Coldplay. Quite addicting. Makes me want to dance, although I can't. Good song to space out to, too, I can write well enough to it. I suggest it. Or anything by Mates of State, they have a really calm sound, good to zone out to.

**Dedication:** Because she dedicated one of her stories to me, I _had_ to return the favor. :) This to Olivia, the dearest of all Canadia dwellers. She rocks, totally. We have the most interesting convos, the inside jokes are blowing my mind. You blew my mind, Liv, there is now a large hole in it, it was blown out. Now go eat some greens, you yak, maybe some jam. I hope I confused at least one person with that.

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Ch. 8 "Fairy Tales" 

The sound of a few hundred people talking at once—a sound I hadn't heard in about a week—exploded in my ears as I stepped into the Great Hall.

I winced. "Ow."

Veronica looked at me and laughed. "Yeah, not the prettiest sound you'll ever hear," she agreed. "But you do tend to get used to it."

"I think I forgot how to get used to it," I muttered, looking down the Gryffindor table for an empty section. After another week in the hospital wing, Madame Hart finally told me I could leave. I guess she was a little glad to get rid of me, as I kept running off on her. That last time I almost got caught, but Sirius noticed James and I sneaking back in, and he faked a feinting spell to distract Madame Hart. He's a real sport. I left that white hell with a few bruises on my stomach, and a light one on my cheek, but those would just have to heal naturally. Madame Hart still embraces the immune system's natural healing process.

It was my first day out, and Veronica and I headed to the Great Hall, as lunch had just started. I got a chorus of "Lily!"s from my house table, and a few from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. The Slytherin table's attitude, however, was entirely different. They _all_ turned and looked at me—some with confused faces, some with surprised, some with blank, bored ones, and others with such cruel, all-knowing smirks that I looked away. My stomach began to feel very hot and I just wanted them all to stop staring at me. Veronica coughed, and I looked at her. She was looking at me worriedly, and it was obvious that she noticed too. But, her being Miss Optimistic and all, decided to ignore the Slytherins' sudden interest in me, and instead steered me protectively over to our house table.

We sat down next to a few of our roommates, and they greeted me warmly. Patricia Easley smiled at me, her plump, rosy cheeks being squashed against her tiny eyes. She always was the happy one, whose exaggeratedly cheerful manner often made me want to hit her over the head with a book. It's one thing to look at the world with a positive light, but to act as if the whole world was made of rainbows and sunshiny meadows was a whole different matter.

"Welcome back, Lily," she chimed at me. "We missed you." She reminded me a bit of a feminine Pillsbury doughboy, but with blonde curls and a pink-tinted face.

"Hello, Patricia," I responded, smiling a bit for her sake.

"Yeah, the dormitory was rather quiet with you missing," Maura Tristen, a brunette with bangs and an overbite added. I smiled at her too, even though I knew what she said was a lie. I never talked in the dormitory; all I went in there to do was read or sleep.

"I hope you're alright," said Carmel Doegood. "It was terrible what happened to you." Carmel was a supermodel-thin strawberry-blonde, whose diet seemed to include only apples at lunch and dinnertime. She was rather popular in our school, and the only reasons seemed to be her overly slim figure and enormous breasts. She was an all right person, occasionally making small talk with me now and then, but she had a reputation of being a bit of a party animal, and would sometimes stumble up to ourdorm at two in the morning, drunk, right before running to the bathroom and throwing up the enormous amounts of alcohol she had consumed.

"Oh don't worry about me, I'm fine," I answered lightly. "I was a major tomboy when I was young, I'm used to a few scratches." Veronica stared at me, but I ignored her.

"A few scratches?" Maura repeated condescendingly, in that high-pitched voice of hers. "Honey, from what I heard, you got _more_ than a few scratches."

"Just as long as you're okay," Patricia added hastily, trying to keep the peace. Her eyes lingered on Maura cautiously as she said it. "We're just glad you're back."

"Right," I said, fake-smiling at Maura. "But you know, Maura, you can't always believe what you hear."

Maura shrugged innocently, but I knew better. She always has been a bit snobbish, and is addicted to gossip. "Well, you _were_ in the hospital wing for a pretty long time," she commented, glancing at me through her dry bangs, looking like a little five-year-old who's tricking her mom into buying her an expensive doll for Christmas. She had that same "I'm innocent" kind of vibe. I resisted the urge to wrinkle my nose.

"Well, Maura, how do you know I was in the hospital wing?" I shot back sweetly, talking to her like a little child. But hey, she had it coming.

"Well where were you, then?" she pressed. This girl was too used to getting what she wants.

"Maybe I was on vacation," I shot back lightly, saying the first thing that came to mind.

"We would have known if you were on vacation, Lily."

"You don't have to know everything, you know." That touched a nerve. Maura's arms tightened and she glared at me.

"Lily," Veronica scolded softly. I smirked to myself, but left Maura alone. It was fun enough messing with her, even if just for a minute.

I leaned back in my seat, smiling to myself at the look on Maura's face, the look she wore when she hadn't gotten all she had set out for. In this case it was finding out exactly why I was in the hospital wing, for whatever childish, trouble-making reasons she had up in that head of hers. I knew Maura well enough to be slightly wary; it was in her nature to be sly and unpredictable, to do whatever it takes to get what she wants. But I wasn't afraid; I knew how to deal with her. As long as I kept my eye on her, she couldn't get too out of hand.

"Look," Veronica whispered in my ear. I glanced up from my sandwich, and followed her gaze. About a third of the way down the table sat the Marauders. The most noticeable was Sirius, who was kneeling on his seat and flailing his arms above his head in my direction, in an over exaggerated wave to get my attention. I grinned.

"He's insane," I heard Veronica mutter.

"He has too much spare time," I corrected, giving Veronica half my attention, as the other half was busy waving down Sirius, gesturing that he come sit near us. He saw what I was doing and hopped out of his seat, making his way towards us.

I turned to Veronica. "You're not going to run away again, are you?" I asked, barely paying attention to the words I had said. I instantly regretted them. I hadn't meant to taunt her, but by the look on her face she thought I had been patronizing. I wanted to explain that I was only checking that she wouldn't disappear on me, as that had become common for her as of lately when the Marauders were around. But before I could, Sirius had appeared and sat down across from me (after shimmying between Carmel and Maura, that is, but they didn't seem to mind). He smiled at me. I could feel a few glares on my back as he did it.

"Lily," he greeted happily. I nodded politely, and was pleased when Sirius acknowledged Veronica rather warmly. The two weren't enemies, but they weren't exactly close either, as Veronica can be shy.

"And how are we doing today," I asked him, grinning slightly.

"Pretty peachy," Sirius responded, while taking note of the number of side-glances Carmel had been feeding him. I could tell he was about to make a move on her,but I cleared my throat. Sirius' eyes darted in my direction, shifted back to Carmel's profile and lingered there, before completely turning to me and giving me his full attention. "You missed a lot of classes," he informed me.

"I know," I said a bit regrettably. "But I did all the homework. Is there anything I missed?"

Sirius shrugged. He was clearly the wrong person to ask. "Nothing's really happening... Kaner started a new potion, though, but it's nothing to worry about; he exaggerates the difficulty of everything he shows us."

Kaner was the Potions professor; he was a tall, gangly man with chalky skin, thin lips, and a long, angular face. He liked to stand behind students and loom over their shoulders, staring intently at what they were doing until they became so flustered they usually messed up. He had a thin, watery voice, and never bothered to raise it so every student in his classroom could understand what he was saying.

"It's a new kind of sleeping draught," Veronica said to me, a little less quietly than she usually would have; I could tell she was getting used to Sirius. "It's more permanent than what we've done before, can last at least a week."

"Is it hard?" I asked, interested. While my lessons might have bored me at some times, overall I was still fairly enthusiastic about them.

"Eh," Sirius easily replied, rolling a shoulder for emphasis. "Easy enough. But you have to remember to never stir in a clockwise motion, if you do it too much the drinker can go into an extremely deep sleep, which can cause hallucinations and heart complications—Hey James!"

I swallowed a bite of my sandwich too quickly. Sure enough, James Potter was walking up the table towards the three of us. I heard Carmel suck in a breath. He reached our part of the table and sat next to Sirius, as Carmel moved over to make space for him. "Hey Veronica, Lily," he said, nodding his head to both of us in turn. Veronica smiled; I took another sip out of my goblet.

He and Sirius launched into conversation, and I went back to my lunch. I could feel Veronica looking at me but I ignored it, until she bent down to my ear and whispered, "Don't be rude."

I sputtered. "What was I doing?" I quietly retorted, not to disturb the conversation going on across the table from us.

She gave me a look. "You didn't say hi to James."

"I was thirsty!"

"It was rude."

"So what!"

"So you admit it was rude."

I huffed. "Fine, it was rude. But who cares, it's just James." I felt a bit bad saying it, as I was starting to give him more respect now that I knew him better, but I didn't want Veronica to know. I turned my back on her and continued eating, although I could feel the look she was giving me through my robe.

More time passed, and Veronica and I sat through it in silence, her sitting there staring at nothing and me devouring my food, determinedly thinking of nothing. James and Sirius seemed to take no notice of us, until James rolled up his robe sleeve and looked at his watch. "Time to go," he said promptly. My hand stopped in midair; I had been reaching for another sandwich. I frowned when I felt my stomach growl.

James took notice. "Don't worry," he said to me, hoisting his school bag on his shoulder. "We'll come down early for dinner and you can eat as much as you want." I grinned.

"Come on, then," Sirius said impatiently, having already started for the door. "Don't want to miss Potions."

"No, why would we want to do that," I said sarcastically, which made James laugh. I smiled again, and couldn't help but feel Veronica look at me again.

We went out of the Great Hall, through the entrance hall, and down the dungeon stairs. We entered the Potions classroom, maneuvering myself around the hoard of students making their way inside, and I immediately set off, looking for a seat, assuming Veronica was behind me. I picked a table on the left, close to the wall, and turned around, expecting Veronica to be behind me. I didn't see her anywhere near me. I was a bit taken aback at her absence, then looked around and spotted her across the room, looking at me with the same curious expression I was sure I too was wearing. I huffed a bit, upset that we had gotten separated, and chided myself for wandering off. I wanted to walk over to her, but before I could someone else—a Ravenclaw—took the only seat next to her, and the ones around her were filling up too quickly. I was stuck.

I narrowed my eyes. Brilliant, Lily, I thought. Your first class out of the hospital wing and you don't even get to sit next to Veronica. I stole another glance at her and saw that she wasn't too distressed about it; she was happily chatting with the Ravenclaw she was seated next to as she set up her cauldron, so I decided not to dwell on it. I can suffer one class period without my best friend, can't I?

And it's not even that I completely depend on her, I thought as I too began to unpack and set up my things. I just like to have the reassurance that there's always one person in the world that I can turn to. We don't have to be attached at the hip, eye, and spleen, but having her there physically as well as mentally does have its advantages. A person always should have that one other individual they can count on completely, and it can just come as a shock when you realize that other person also has a life, one that doesn't always pertain entirely to you. Yes, I thought as I unpacked my last bottle of salamander blood. That sounds about right. I glanced one more time at Veronica and felt as though I had just explained all the wonders of the universe. I smiled.

"Well you look happy to see me."

My head snapped up, mind ripped from its thoughts, and I stared into the profile of James Potter, who was calmly setting up his equipment right next to mine. He glanced my way, and grinned slightly at my bemused expression. "Only seat available," he explained, still smiling. "I would've sat with Sirius, but he seems to be quite content without me." He gestured to the far corner of the room, where Sirius sat with his arm around another Ravenclaw, whispering things in her ear, causing her to giggle madly and accidentally graze her fingers over his arm numerous times.

"Just met her, too," I heard James say, and found he was still speaking to me. "I think she's new, but that didn't stop him. Practically pounced once he laid eyes on her. He always was up for a challenge." His smile grew. "I don't think he even noticed that his nonchalant actions left me without a seat."

"Well what about Remus and Peter?" I asked. "Can't you sit with them?" I actually didn't have any problem with James sitting near me; I was surprised when I found myself implying that he move.

"Remus isn't in this class," he explained, "and Peter just wasn't up for N.E.W.T. Potions."

"Does that mean he didn't feel like it or his grades weren't good enough?"

"That would be answer numero dos," James said with another grin, and returned to setting up his cauldron.

"Oh." I looked down. Suddenly I felt awkward, like I wasn't suppose to be there, standing next to James. It was almost as if I wouldn't feel better until I was halfway across the room, facing the other direction, so I wouldn't have to look at him anymore. It wasn't that I was mad at him, I just didn't feel right. I felt stupid asking such simple questions, questions I probably could have figured out on my own if I had kept quiet. I knew James liked the kind of person who was witty and bright, and wasn't afraid to better him at something, and I felt sad almost because I knew I failed to appear as that person.

Stupid thoughts, I scolded myself, still keeping my eyes down. Who cares if I didn't seem witty and bright, I don't have anything to prove to anyone.

A door at the front of the room opened, and Professor Kaner strode in from his supply room. The class quieted, and everyone instantly leaned a bit forward in their seats, ready for the professor's soft voice.

"No more talking," he said smoothly, although there was no need. "You know what to do, begin."

I glanced around. I, for one, had no idea what to do. I coughed slightly, and my stomach began to feel especially heavy when I saw everyone else immedietly pick up where they left off, not saying another word, each one intent on the potions they were brewing, which were fairly mature, and I fully understood how far behind I was.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I didn't dare ask Professor Kaner for help—he'd probably say it was my fault I didn't know what I was doing—and there wasn't even a book I could refer to; I assumed the lecture had been mainly verbal.

James, fortunately, noticed my uneasy air; he took pity on me and began muttering directions out of the corner of his mouth, and soon my potion was the same light blue as everyone else's, and had the same thick texture. I gave a silent sigh of relief, smiling to myself as I stirred the potion. There was no doubt in my mind that if James hadn't been there, I would have gotten a zero for the day, which was not exactly at the top of my to-do list.

"_Thank_ you, James," I said to him, once the end of the class period was drawing near and the class had begun to put away their things. I turned fully to him, so full of gratitude that I hadn't failed for the day that I might've hugged him right then and there if I didn't have my hands clenched at my sides. "If it hadn't been for you..."

"Don't mention it," James said easily, waving a hand in the air as if to brush the thought away. "It was just one Potions class." He grinned at me. "You think about school too much, Lily."

"And you don't think about it enough," I retorted, finding myself quirking a smile back. Any other day I might've told him off for saying that to me, but I didn't think it was right for me to deeply thank him one minute then lecture him the next.

James laughed. "Just glad I could help you out," he said. The bell rang and he headed towards the door, glancing back at me one last time.

I watched his mop of black hair—I just then realized how black it truly was—go through the door, on its way to the common room, no doubt, to relax for an hour before Charms.

"Lily." I looked to my left. Veronica was standing there, ready to go, arms crossed, staring at me with that know-it-all expression of hers. She arched an eyebrow amusedly.

"There's no need to look at me like that," I mumbled as I slung the strap of my bag over my shoulder and hurried to the door.

I exited the dungeon room and hurried for the stairs, not bothering to see if Veronica was following me. I reached the entrance hall and was halfway up the marble staircase before she appeared at my side, grinning widely at me.

"That James is a fine fellow," she chirped, practically skipping up the stairs. "I wonder if he's still single," she added as an afterthought.

"Well it's really none of my business," I snapped. "Or yours."

"I know," she said, shrugging. "But still. Girls really do seem to like him. But then again I can't blame them, he is rather handsome, and he's not at all bad to talk to—"

"Well if you're so in love with him why don't you two just elope right now," I said angrily, turning on my heel and marching to the common room rather quickly.

"Just don't get so emotional," Veronica chided lightly, jogging slightly to keep up with me. I was still in one of my moods and made no attempt to slow my pace. "I wasn't saying you yourself had to _marry_ him or anything..."

I flushed. "I know, sorry," I said, finally making an effort to slow down. Veronica gave a small smile of relief.

"And by the way, I think he still is single. He stopped his crash-dating phase after he declared his undying love to you in the Transfiguration corridor last year, remember?" She giggled at the memory.

"Yeah," I laughed, smiling with my mouth but not my eyes.

"Yeah. He is an odd one, isn't he? Falling in love at sixteen, and with a girl he barely knows."

"Oh I doubt it's real love," I said, walking a bit faster than I had a moment ago.

She shrugged. "You never know with boys like him, though. Maybe it is love." She suddenly laughed. "I think I'm concocting my own little fairy tale here."

"I don't think I'd mind living in a fairy tale," I commented, stopping in front of the Fat Lady, the portrait that covered the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. "Unicorn," I said, and having given the right password, the portrait gave away and Veronica and I entered the common room. The heat of the fire instantly hit my face, and I inwardly smiled. Veronica came up behind me, scanning the room for an empty couch. "That whole 'happily ever after' thing certainly doesn't bother me," I added, grinning.

"Nor I," she agreed, laughter in her voice. "But where in the world are we going to find us Prince Charmings?"

"Hey Veronica, Lily," James greeted, passing us as he crossed the common room. His hazel eyes seemed to glow in the firelight.

"Hello!" I called back, a little too enthusiastically. I realized I had been waving at him, and brought my hand down sharply. _Bad hand,_ I caught myself thinking, and I was mad at myself all over again. I huffed a bit, and was brought back to reality by the sound of Veronica laughing.

* * *

**A/N, read this people:** I keep asking this question, but no one is answering me! For all you readers out there, I am calling out to you! I need advice. I am stuck. This story has a pothole the size of West Virginia. And a pothole does not equal more chapters. Pothole equals no more chapters, or at least very boring ones. 

My problem: I need advice, suggestions, whatever, on what to do with this story. Because I am stuck. Majorly. -Sad face.- The character I introduced in the chapter "Him"—the man who attacked Lily—is confusing me. I have no idea what to do with him, how to reintroduce him, etc. A man cannot just attack the main character, then never come back again; I have to bring him back _somehow_, or at least Voldemort, and that's what I'm stuck on... I don't know how. So, _help_? If you have any suggestions, by all means, GIVE THEM TO ME.

Onto the rest of this A/N. We have established some more aspects to this story. I introduced more characters, changed the view of Lily's relationships with Veronica and James... the usual. I also feel Lily's a bit more mature in this chapter... is it just me? After that attack, I think her state of mind would change to be a little more mature, though, so to me it's natural. I feel like I have to explain everything because the relationships I established are changing slightly, and they are able to miss, and we don't have the brightest bunch here on FF... but that's ok!

I love reviewers:D


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